Diadem; A Short Story

Diadem

          I was standing near the bridge when everything came to a blunt stillness.

 

All of a sudden the world stops revolving. The hand of the clock seems to work too slow and people stop dead in their tracks. Then, there’s a complete silence. The deafening silence of the city seems to be so unfamiliar and alarming to me. To everyone. My heart starts to beat so fast I thought it would come out of my body. And somehow, in between all of this, I am suddenly in total awe of how a loud screechy crash, that one loud thump from two smashed cars can make everyone feel that they are part of this world. That we are part of everyone else.

 

People started to move, their minds working again- realizing what happened. And before you could take a glimpse of what really happened, the crowd had started milling around the accident, attempting to know the story behind it. It is now that someone is in danger that they want to take part of everything- eager to know everything about it when they don’t even know their names or if they even have a pet they left in their homes. But, if some were all business about it, some are just walking past it, gradually eavesdropping, then leaves the subject behind because well, it is not their business to mind at all. They think there is more to life than someone else’s life in danger.

 

Squeezing myself in the growing crowd until I am in the exact place where the two cars collided, I suddenly feel so glum I feel nauseated. I abruptly want to step back and become one of those persons who thinks that there is more to life than someone else’s life in danger. People were also too stunned to take actions or even call an ambulance. Blood. There’s blood everywhere. The two cars were a total wrecked. The impact of their collision is visible enough that both dash panels of the cars are barely recognizable because the blue car almost got it’s half body inside the silver car. Shattered pieces of glass with smears of blood from the persons inside of it are scattered everywhere. Looking at the entire scene was like looking at an action movie- bewilderment with a mix of anticipation of what will happen next. Of what will happen after everything. But, only this is real. There are no cameras to capture the scene, no lights to emphasize certain part and most especially, no directors to say cut. Time’s up. Good take or not.

 

I cringed at the thought of being there. Being dead. I just can’t imagine how in just a blink of an eye, everything will vanished. I wonder if the persons inside the two cars have plans ahead of this, I mean we all do have plans ahead of our day. I mean plans that you can’t wait to do. Events that’ll mark your career. Day that will change your life forever. And I even wonder if it occur to us the thought about our time running out, scared enough of it to make every day as our last. If for a second, stepping out of our house might be the end of everything.

 

Out of nowhere, a loud thump silence all the people’s hush voices. Even my own reverie.

 

Just when everybody predicts that there’s no other way someone could survive this horrible accident, a hoarse cry suddenly rise up from the blue car. It’s agonizing enough that from where I stood, I could actually feel the pain she is suffering right now. The ambulance, which I haven’t heard coming, make their way through the crowd as they approach the scene. Reporters from different channels came in trying to get information from different people standing around the accident.

 

I silently watched as the paramedics try to get their way into the blue car. Visible creases in their foreheads show that this might be a one tough day for them. After hastily removing the doors of the car, one of them slipped inside the car to look for survivors. The lady inside the car, sitting in the passenger’s seat was crying and screaming loudly that people around her squinch as they try to get her. As they put her in the stretcher carefully, I finally understood what she was trying to say. She was calling her baby. She wails while the paramedics strap her cautiously and I’m surprise they didn’t try to shout at the lady to be calm. Seeing how helpless she looks, how she can even manage to look for her child even if she’s covered with blood and bruises, my heart constricts. There’s this lump in my throat I can’t get out of my system because I’m afraid the only way to this problem are tears. I suddenly have this urge to hug and mourn with her. To tell her everything would be fine even if it’s just a lie. How can we be fine if we lost things and persons that keep us sane? That keep us moving? And why all these things have to happen to somebody?

 

I can see the tears streaming down her face as they carry her inside the ambulance. People around the accident couldn’t keep the pity in their eyes, the regret and how it must have been hard for someone to be in this kind of this situation when you just expect this as any other kind of day you’ve ever had. Just when they were putting her inside the elevator, a miracle happened.

 

A cry from a baby.

 

I guess we all look like all the fathers hearing their first child cry- teary. A tear escape from my eye as the paramedics look astonishingly at one another. The lady couldn’t help but cry as she heard her child respond to her yells and silent calling. Other paramedics approach the car and saw that the baby was in the backseat, miraculously lying on the floor. Gasps suddenly escape from the crowd as one of the paramedics get the child and saw that the baby is safe- with no bruises at all. I don’t know what’s going in my mind when I suddenly look up in the sky with a bit of smile forming on my face. I guess that life, no matter how bad a day may become, there are still good things that are destined to happen. The crowd applauded as the mother and her child reunited. I couldn’t help but smile, like really smile at the thought of having someone to hold on to when you’re in your darkest times. I know that somehow, someday this lady would finally get through this because she has someone to hold on to. The reason to keep her moving.

 

People started to walk away as they heard the paramedics claimed that there are no more survivors left. As they walk away, authorities started to remove the blue car followed by the silver car. I saw and heard one of the paramedics sigh as he rubs the back of his neck with complete disappointment in his face. I heard him say that the person inside the silver car was the most damaged out of all the four persons they retrieved. They can’t even recognize the face of that person, who as they said, was sitting at the driver’s seat.

 

I started to walk away too.

 

But, it’s like I’m tied to where I am standing that I couldn’t move. It’s like something is missing and I need to know what and where it is. I started to panic. I kept darting my eyes in every direction hoping to find some clue. I hate this feeling. Like you know something and it’s hanging in the tip of your tongue and it wouldn’t give in if you don’t give enough patience and perseverance.

 

And that’s when I saw her. The driver of the silver car. They are right, she is barely recognizable because of how devastated she looked. She was covered in her own blood and her body is twisted in an awful angle. The paremedics try their best not to look at it because how can you take looking at a dead body like that knowing you can carry it in your dreams? I look away too. They prepared a black bag, the sized of a person, and put her inside of it. I tried to get a glimpse of her- long brown hair, slender body and fair complexion. She looks like a teenager. Does she have a family? Do they even know that their daughter was dead? Did the girl try to kiss her parents and tell them how much thankful she was for having them? Is she even a nice girl?

 

I clutched my necklace trying to get some support. And that’s when I saw the girl’s hand. She’s clutching something in her neck like she’s holding in it too.

 

The world before me started to get fuzzy, muffled voices of people started to buzz my ears. The ground started to shake that I suddenly went limp and kneeled down to where I am standing awhile ago.

 

I was standing near the bridge when everything came to a blunt stillness.

 

No.

 

I was sitting in my car when all of my dreams, in a blink of an eye, vanish into thin air.

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Who Am I?

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Who Am I? (An essay found somewhere in her room, 2012)

     Who am I? and the question made my mind think to death.

     The world is full of questions, some are answerable and some are not. It is full of mysteries, facts. and of course, lies. There comes a time when you don’t even know the diference between right and wrong. In a world where you stand and develop as an individual, do you really know who you are?

     My parents see me as a responsible student and daughter. My friends see me as their moody but trustworthy friend. For those who don’t know me, they see me as a person who looks very sleppy all the time (they even call me geisha because of my eyes) and doesn’t have any social life at all. Well, I see myself as an above and beyond the normal individual. Why? because God made me so. So, you too is a unique and beyond the individual living organism you think you are.

     I am a machine gun and marshmallow type of person. I am really outspoken but, often times I chose to observe (a lot), draw, sing (in the bathroom like a pro), and read (hibernation to the max) instead of awkwardly interacting with all those people who think I’m weird. (well,maybe I am). There are times that I act so emtional about different things and times that I act so easy going about certain problems. Indeed, I’m always the unpredictable one.

     I am someone who loves to sacrifice for the sake of those I treasure. I love making others happy and I hate people who think of their lives as worthless. I am possessive, childish and ambitious, well I bet everyone’s like that, right?

     I have dreams (well, we all do have dreams)- I want to be a successful person and to live a healthy and peaceful life with my family. As much as I care about the problems of the world, there comes a time that my mind explodes without any further notice because I kept on thinking too much of it. And that’s when I realize that I am someone who’ll someday be the catalyst (epic) of this uncertain world.

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Lennon Walker Wannabe

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Lennon Walker Wannabe

 

     Once we are done reading a book, there is always something in there that you will want to carry or bear in mind once you step out of your reverie to face your own world- the reality. It could be a fictional character you admire the most (to the point that you wanted to be just EXACTLY who and what they are), a place you wanted to be when you have the chance (thinking you might meet them personally although it’s clear that they are part of author’s fantastic imagination), or lessons that made you think that there is more to life than just sitting around and ranting all day long.

     Well, I admire all the books that I’ve read. It’s pretty obvious that I go gaga whenever I’m done reading a book ‘cos I’m a dork. Hahaha. (my reviews are my proof that I am kid with raging hormones when it comes in reviewing a book.)

     But, there is something about this book that made me want to live like the protagonist. While I’m reading The Sky Is Everywhere, twas like I am looking at myself in the mirror. It was like I am reading my own story- a story told by someone else.

 

I’m writing wow on my thigh with my finger, decide I’d better open my mouth and snap us out of this impromptu staring contest.

Dear Mind, I write on my jeans with my finger, Behave.

     I used to do this. But, I have to stop because I’m also writing on someone else’s jeans (you read it right). I am aware that I am writing or even draw in my jeans whenever I feel so. I thought it was normal but when a cousin of mine notice this and when I accidentally wrote on his own jeans, he was really startled and then started to point that it was really weird and nobody does that (he even called it a weird and dorky mannerism). I was in so much shock to hear from someone else that it’s wrong and that I should stop doing that. Writing on my jeans was like suppressing my unwanted emotions bursting out. Eventhough I’m a bit hurt about it, I tried my very best to stop writing on my jeans eventhough I find it really hard to stop it which eventually came to the point that I started writing imaginarily on everything that is solid enough to scribble unspoken words. But today, I am managing well on not writing in my jeans or my friends’ and contented with the walls, tables and even blankets. Ha-ha-ha for me.

 

I see a scrap of paper on the ground dry enough to write on, so I sit on a rock, take out the pen that I always keep in my back pocket now, and scribble a conversation I remember having with Bailey on it, then fold it up and bury it in the moist earth.

     Now, this is something that I really want to do! Well, I am currently starting and I’m eventually caught by my sister and she thought I was really out of my mind. And since Jandy Nelson is too far from where I’m currently typing this, I’m hoping that one day (by all means- wind, fire, earth and whatnot) she’ll be reading one of my scraps.

 

I gasp, because isn’t that just exactly what I’ve been doing too: writing poems and scattering them to the winds with the same hope as Gram that someone, someday, somewhere might understand who I am, who my sister was, and what happened to us.

     I’m writing random things with all the papers that I see being carried away with the wind and is still nice to write on because I want to inspire people. I do know that I am just a somebody to this world, I have flaws, I am a person with full of insecurities in life, and I am not prominent enough for people to believe. And that’s why I am doing this- I’d like people to believe that eventhough we are a bunch of somebody’s in this world, and we think we can do nothing to improve humanity, as long as we believe in ourselves- WE can do EVERYTHING. We can be who we want and nothing can’t stop us from what God wants us to be.

 

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Reflecting

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Haruki Murakami- On Seeing The 100% Perfect Girl One Beautiful April Morning

 

It’s amazing how a short story with six pages of wonderfully arranged words can change how you view love, life, and somehow alter the principles you used to live by.

 

I often belittle myself because I’m ugly. Maybe I’m not but, I still feel like it’s true. Unlike any other teenagers, it never crossed my mind to enter a relationship. Maybe I did many moons ago, but I guess I grew tired of all those unrequited love “situations” that I’ve been through. So, that’s when it dawned on me that maybe I’m destined to no one because of how I look. It was a shame for guy to flaunt a girl like me in public with intertwining hands. Like, who the heck will be willing enough to walk right by my side?

 

Tell you the truth, she’s not that good-looking. She doesn’t stand out in any way. Her clothes are nothing special. The back of her hair is still bent out of shape from sleep. 

But still, I know from fifty yards away: She’s the 100% perfect girl for me. The moment I see her, there’s a rumbling in my chest, and my mouth is as dry as a desert.

A smile crept in my face as I read this excerpt. A flag of hope has risen astoundingly as I realized that physical appearance is nothing if true love is the reason why a couple chose to be in each others shoulder. Maybe God is still working for that one guy that’ll certainly love me whole-heartedly- and I’m willing to wait for that guy even if it takes forever. I felt a little giddy when I realized that maybe one hundred blocks away, that guy is already thinking whose that girl he’s destined for. And I silently hope that we always do that at the same time. Kinda sweet eh?

 

A lot of people are asking me of what should they do if they are afraid to be in a relationship even if they are sure enough to themselves that they really love that person. And my answer? “If you’re not willing to take the risk, then don’t do it ‘cos if both of you are meant for each other, no matter what circumstances you might both encounter you’ll be together in some other time.”

 

 

Let’s test ourselves – just once. If we really are each other’s 100% perfect lovers, then sometime, somewhere, we will meet again without fail. And when that happens, and we know that we are the 100% perfect ones, we’ll marry then and there. What do
you think?”

 

And I was wrong.

 

They should never have undertaken it, because they really and truly were each other’s 100% perfect lovers, and it was a miracle that they had ever met. When they awoke, their heads were as empty as the young D. H. Lawrence’s piggy bank.

 

Life is too short to let opportunites pass by- to let go of what they call “true love” without even having second thoughts. It doesn’t matter if you get hurt by your first love or get fooled by your second boyfriend, because I think what really matters is the lesson/s you’ve learned from them- experiences are the best teachers, right? You might get hurt but always remember this excerpt I’ll never forget from John Green’s The Fault In Our Stars- “That’s the thing about pain, it demands to be felt.” We’ll never know unless we are the one who’s experiencing it.

 

After reading this short story, I am certain that this world with full of mysteries and misseries, is a world worth breathing and living for. Let’s learn to appreciate every breath that we take, every step that we make because we can never go back once we’ve made something big for ourselves- eventhough you think it’s not.

 

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Fugly

Self-loathing

There are times when I want to feel beautiful. There are times when I want to shut myself from those people who see me as a trash that did nothing but to messed up everyday. There are times that I don’t want to go to school or even go outside our house. I’m afraid of people. I’m afraid when I see those eyes looking at me- those eyes that tells awful things at me. It makes me cringe, makes me feel like I’m nothing.

But, I survive each day by telling to myself that I will not give a damn about what will they say about me.

And I knew that everytime I’m telling this to myself, I’m constantly lying.

I’m envious with all the girls out there that are pretty and petite enough to walk around and greet people with those big smiles because I’m not like them.

I envy those girls that can dance, sing, act, paint, play different instruments and even engage with different sports activities because I can’t do that.

I can’t even excel with this thing I called passion- writing. I am always trying. But, I always fail.

I know this problem is nothing compared to others. I should find myself lucky enough that I get to survive each day, that I can talk, walk and go to school.

It’s just that sometimes the way people insult me… makes me want to burst all the burdens that I’ve kept inside because it’s too much. I can’t even stand looking at myself in the mirror.

I want to feel beautiful. I wish.

Decapitated Apple

Decapitated Apple

          An invisible worm that flies in the night amidst the howling storm keeps its flashlights on like its looking for some treasure. It continues to creep, crawl, and advance slowly entering the maze where the end it wishes to reach might have been located. It is thirsty for satisfaction, longs for victory and utterly fascinated by the flashing and glittering lights of nature. You might thought it could just be some worm that wanders around but, it isn’t- they are not.

The world is like an apple with its enemy- the worms. An invertebrate creature which attacks helpless creature leaving nothing but its lifeless body. In the present time, we can consider world as an apple being slowly destroyed by these hideous worms- humans.

Due to the endless needs and wants of everyone, we have already forgotten to do our mission here on Earth- to protect God’s creation. Just because we have already gotten what we want to acquire in life that would meet our satisfaction in this world, it doesn’t mean that we should miss out this one important thing- giving back to our dear Earth with our own little ways.

Signs of unhasty devastation creeps in our memories in every places that we thought would always be beautiful as it always look. Worms have already made its way through our nature- viciously destroying all the good things that we have.

The apple- the Earth is now experiencing damage from different calamities and human activities. But, “change” is not that too late. “Change is the only temporary thing in this world”, so we better repair the apple’s damage and make it better before everything would turn out to be worse for everyone of us.

Green Fight

Green Fight

          As I walk across the street, I feel nothing but, like flying in the midst of the crowd. Until, someone had caught my attention. I saw a lady wearing a white shirt with printed words on it, “Green is sexy”. Just then, I came to realize something, ‘What does green symbolizes anyway?’

There are certain persons nowadays that are living in a green life, so what’s that green all about? Some of the people nowadays are eating green foods, so what’s the taste of that green thing? And people as of now are implementing “Green Revolution”, so what’s that green they are fighting for?

“Green”, symbolizes nature or in other words “Mother Earth”. It exhibits living in a natural way, for mankind nowadays are in the century of modernization and ungraded technology. Color green in present time, represents environmental issues. It exposes different views of how we mankind should restore what we have- our home.Image

          Indeed, living green is not all about living just the way we like or the way others do. It’s not all bout being up to date to what is new and what’s the trend. Living green is all about living naturally in a way that we appreciate, conserve and care for our nature. It is all about protecting what we have for it is a gift from our Almighty God.